March 28, 2008

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When I got to the office yesterday, there was a buzz in the air. I couldn't put my finger on why, or what exactly was going on.

Then Beth called all the editors into a meeting.

Susan sat down next to me. I gave her a big smile. We'd had lunch twice this week — and I was so happy to have her at work. She was flying back to Los Angeles tonight to get more of her stuff, and to see her friend, who was going to fly into L.A. from SF.

Right before the meeting, she had sent me an e-mail asking if I wanted to go see the new exhibit at the Guggenheim when she got back.

I leaned in to tell her to count me in, right before Beth started talking.

"So," Beth said. "We're getting a lot of excited response from our "Homes Away from Home" feature, about the hotels and spas that feel the most like homes. The spas that we've included are beyond grateful. And I've got great news. The Langley Spa near Cape May, New Jersey, has invited all of us there for a retreat."

"We're scheduled for next weekend. Friday will be mandatory for the whole staff. Hard lives, right? And those of you who want to stay for the whole weekend are welcome. If you have obligations in the city, the spa will provide limousines to bring you back that night."

Susan cleared her throat when Beth stopped talking. "I certainly don't want to be a downer, Beth, but I'm not a spa girl," she said. "And I get back on the red-eye on Thursday. Is it okay if I skip this one?"

"Not a spa girl," Beth laughed. "Please! That's like saying you are not a girl who likes flowers. Get on board, Susan. You will definitely be one after ten hours soaking in mud. Besides, I know you. You just want to skip out early on Friday to go see that boyfriend of yours, probably flying back in with you from Los Angeles."

"He's in San Francisco, actually. And he isn't planning a trip to New York next weekend, if you…"

"Well, men aren't everything! He'll have to do without you for a weekend. Okay, all, so get back to work."

Susan and I walked out of the meeting together.

"Is she always this fun?" Susan joked.

"She means well," I said. "But she does have an issue with…"

"Anyone who has a life outside of here?"

I nodded. "It's starting to seem that way."

"She loves you, though," Susan said. "It's like you can do no wrong. I probably should have just kept my mouth closed, but I don't feel like heading to New Jersey right when I get back to New York."

"Believe me," I said. "She's already forgotten."

Susan followed me into my office and closed the door.

"So…how far along are you?"

I looked at her, wide-eyed. "Excuse me?"

"Don't worry. I won't say a thing."

"How could you tell?" I asked, sitting on the couch.

She plopped down next to me. "I've got two big sisters. Seven kids between them, six pregnancies. I've got a pretty keen radar for this."

"Wow. I'm just not ready for…"

She put her hand on my arm. "It's our secret. I just wanted you to know that I knew. In case you need me to pick up some of the slack around here, you've got it."

She squeezed my arm, heading out of the office. And it occurred to me that she didn't ask who the father was — that she was respecting my privacy. She wasn't trying to gossip. She just wanted me to know I could count on her.

"Thank you, Susan," I said.

"Anytime," she said, and smiled at me. "Now I've just got to prepare for mud treatment 101."